Cassandra
by Velvedere
Summary: CATS fic with characters portrayed as anthrofelines. In this story Cassandra, princess of the Jellicles' country, must find a way to deal with the destiny her birthright has given her and what her heart truly feels.


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CASSANDRA

The air of excitement was high in the country of Felinera as the peasants of its capital, Pawprin, gathered before the platform of mighty Castle Jukard. All manner of feline beings were clad in a wide variety of festive colors, adding to the loveliness of the food scents drifting in the air and the overall anticipation of the celebration to come.

Slowly, one by one, the exhilarated toms, females, and kittens fell quiet as a lone female mounted the steps onto the wooden platform. All became still. No kitten giggled or whimpered. Some barely breathed. Not even the birds seemed to disturb the quiet footsteps of the princess on the stage.

The female was none other than Cassandra, princess of Felinera. Daughter of Deuteronomy and the deceased Exotica, Cassandra was her peoples' idol, their image of beauty, grace, and perfection. Though it would be her older half-brother Munkustrap who would inherit the crown of Felinera upon their father's death, Cassandra was the love of her people, the Jellicles. The King's solitary heir stood to the side, but all attention of the crowd was upon the slender female.

Cassandra's short, slim cinnamon-brown fur outlined her shape as close as her skin. The sight of her slim Siamese-like build was a wonder to all of Deuteronomy's bloodline, for never before had an appearance such as hers been seen in his ancestors. "It is a sign from Heaviside," the peasants whispered. She stood proudly centered on the stage, and they could only watch in awe as she bowed gracefully with the fluid movements of water itself. She then turned from the platform edge and bowed to Munkustrap and her father, her ultimate respects to them both. Nothing was higher in the cats' society than family.

Cassandra then moved to Deuteronomy's side and fixed her gaze out over the line of toms who had stepped forward and stood straight, separated from the crowd. This was the beginning day of the games and tournaments that would eventually decide which male would be wed to Cassandra. No less than twenty young toms, lean and muscular, were lined throughout the square center, each and every one of them anticipating the chance. They all gazed up in awe and desire at their princess, but Cassandra kept her stare rigid, seeming not to notice them. To the side of the crowd, sitting in his own sectioned seat, was Deuteronomy's advisor, Skimbleshanks, scanning the identities of the suitors on a scroll before him, scrawling here and there with a quill pen.

Behind her mask of no emotion, Cassandra was cringing visibly. She cared nothing for the males spread out before her. They meant nothing. Princess of one of the grandest countries in existence, all toms born were at her choosing, but not one of them had managed to impress her. But she knew her duty to her country, her people, her family. And she would perform that duty. That did not mean she would enjoy it. "One of you had better be worthy of this prize," she whispered under her breath. Then, at a nod from Skimble, her clear, feminine voice called out to them: "May the power of Heaviside favor upon the best of you, fill your strength, endurance, and courage, so that only the rightful will win."

Yeowling loudly in reply, the toms cheered, lashing their tails, and waved the banners that depicted the symbols of their own families. Most of them were known to her: other rich families from all corners of Felinera. Nobles who hoped to improve their name, wealth, and appearance by wedding a princess. Most of them.

There was one, though, who stood out from the others. At the end of the line, he stood clad in a green jerkin and bandanna, rags compared to the bright-colored cloaks and tunics the others wore. His fur was white with black marks, most notably one large patch over his right eye. She knew his face. A knight of the road, he had no money, no family honor to speak of, and only his experience in battle stood as his sole chance of winning Cassandra's paw. His name was Alonzo. While the others howled out with their show of respect for the princess, he alone stood still, arms crossed over his barrel chest, brown eyes gazing up with a cool exterior at Cassandra. She met his stare, keeping up her mask of regal lack of emotion, though inside she was working to hold her anger at his defiance.

"You," her voice rang out, silencing all, one flexed claw from her slim brown hand extended out towards the homeless tom. "Alonzo. Why are you here? You have not the name or the resources to contend."

Alonzo's eyes never left hers as he answered with the same flat authority, a small smile creeping under his whiskers. "As far as I understand it, Your Highness, any willing tom may compete in these games. Or has Jukard taken up discrimination against those at the lower end of society?"

Cassandra, face muscles hardening at this blatant show of disrespect, but was halted as Munkustrap set a gentle, sturdy black hand on her shoulder. Turning in a start, she met his golden eyes, then followed suit as his strong gaze turned out over the crowd and to the bold tom.

"Take no offense, dear sister," he said with all authority, glaring. "I'm sure he means no discourtesy. He is simply unfamiliar with our customs."

Lifting his chin in a sign of agreement, Alonzo's tail curled as his smile grew wider. "Perhaps that's it, Your Highness. I _am_ a traveler, of course." His gaze shifted to Munkustrap, then back to Cassandra. The female shivered despite the warm sun overhead and turned her face away in pretend distraction. That look she had seen in his eyes...like a tiger stalking his prey.

"Well said, my son," Deuteronomy hailed as he, too, moved up beside his children. Then, to the tense crowd: "Let the games begin!"

Despite the cheering that erupted from the gathered cats before her, Cassandra stood aghast. No other family was regarded higher in Felinera than hers: those of the royal blood. Toms had been known to be executed for showing less rebelliousness against them than Alonzo did now. Yet her brother and father had let him escape unscathed. The competitors filed away in procession, followed by Munkustrap and her father. Cassandra remained on the platform. She could choose to follow, or go back to solitude in her chambers and sit out her last days as a maiden waiting for the news of who her mate was to be. Glancing to the side, she saw Skimbleshanks's orange-striped fur glisten in the sunlight, still bent over his scroll and writing the events that had just played out. Drawing herself up to full height and regalness, the princess stepped majestically from the platform and mounted her white mare that would carry her back to Castle Jukard.

Inside her chambers, Cassandra sat at the edge of her silk-laden bed, her maid servant helping her to fasten up the ties on the back of her evening gown. The maid servant's skilled golden hands worked quickly as Cassandra held a mirror before her in one hand, brushing back and smoothing out her short mane. "Thankyou, Demeter. That will be all."

Bowing quickly, only a quiet "Yes, Milady," passed Demeter's lips as she gathered up her plain cloth skirt and slipped away towards the heavy oak door. Turning back, she curtsied again and asked timidly: "Would Milady like her dinner tonight?"

"No," Cassandra breathed, setting down her mirror. "Not tonight."

"Yes, Milady." And Demeter left her to privacy.

Heaving a sigh, in her solitude able to express any and all emotion without the prying eyes of her people, Cassandra stood and swept gracefully to her large open window. Set in one of the high walls facing out, from her window Cassandra could view all of Pawprin basking in the sun of warm afternoon. The small, simple houses and shops were dwarfed by the castle in the distance, set atop a series of hills for better strategic reasons should there ever be an attack. This was how Cassandra had always viewed the outside world: from afar. Only with the protection of several armed guards was she able to go into the open, and only then with her father's permission. Sighing, she sat down, letting her head rest against the cold stone that made up all the walls of the castle. Often she had sat at this window, watching the tiny movements her eyes could pick up from the distance that separated Pawprin and Jukard.

When Cassandra was younger she had often wished to go down to the city, wondered what it was like to live beyond these stone walls...to live as she pleased...to be free. It was the blood that ran in Cassandra's veins that dictated her fate: to live inside this castle, to be the mate of a tom she most likely had never seen before, to be brought up prim and proper when her spirit yearned for the freedom to run, to hunt, to dance. But these were not what the people expected of a princess...

Something moved in the dense trees lining the river that ran before the castle, breaking Cassandra's train of wistful thought. Holding the stone edge of the window, she leaned out into the waning sunlight, squinting her eyes for sight of what moved the branches below. A gap in the trees, and she saw Alonzo accompanied by another young tom. Drawing back with a contemptuous scoff, she turned her gaze away disdainfully. What was that renegade up to? Probably off to the forest, she thought. Part of the competitive games was to set out on a night hunt and bring back the biggest game possible. With his lack of weapons and horses, she doubted Alonzo would be the one to bring back anything more than a few birds. Served him well...

The air shimmering with the heat of late afternoon stopped above the leafy canopy line, broken by a shady layer that provided a welcome relief to anyone in the forest. Deep within the woods surrounding Pawprin, Jukard, and the countryland beyond was a large clearing at the top of a low hill. The tall prairie-like grass swayed in the slight breeze, a sea of gently rolling gold under the hot summer sun. At the edge of the clearing was a small outcropping of river-smoothed rocks that had no business being there. Approximately the height of an adult Jellicle, the front of it leaned far out in the direction of the clearing, offering a perfect view for the lone figure who crouched there, his tail lashing tensely behind him.

Alonzo knew no fear or alarm as he peered over the rock's crest into the clearing, watching carefully the five dark figures that milled about in the tall grass. His muscles flexed like liquid steel under his glossy coat of white and black, his claws flexing in an out with anticipation, his face hardset and attentive. He didn't have to turn and identify the scent of the other tom that slid down beside him, watching the same dark shapes in the distance.

"What are they?" the other male said quietly. Alonzo's whiskers flexed at the other's sudden presence, acknowledging his travel companion.

"Carbucketty," Alonzo growled, slightly irritated. "I told you to remain behind..."

Carbucketty, a young rambunctious male with fur of white covered in brown markings, most prominently a slash over his left eye, grinned mischievously. "If you are going to impress the princess, Alonzo, you need to get the biggest game. You can't do that alone." He gazed intently out at the five figures, which were considerably closer now. "Pollicles?"

Alonzo barely nodded as Carbucketty guessed correctly the identity of the five figures below. Carbucketty's grin grew.

"The five of them would make wonderful prizes."

Never once tearing his eyes away, Alonzo sighed. "Yes, they would. Hopefully they are not meeting up with a bigger pack. See, they are moving away. Wait..." The two men watched until the five wild dog-like Pollicles disappeared into the opposite forest end of the clearing. Only then did the two slip down from the rock. "We'll follow them until nightfall," the older outlined. "When they lay down to sleep, we'll attack."

Carbucketty tossed the bound stack of spears over his shoulders, content to carry them as Alonzo set to tracking the Pollicles' path. As far as he was concerned there was no better tracker than the white and black tom. He also knew of Alonzo's quietness and solitary preferences, but nevertheless attempted to make some conversation as they went along at an easy power-walk. Pollicles were relatively slow creatures. Their rhythmic footsteps mixed with the buzzing of insects were the only sounds as they went along into the denser part of the vast forest.

"Are you prepared to win this contest, Alonzo? There are several worthy opponents against you," Carbucketty began quietly.

The white and black male stared ahead and to their right for a moment before answering, his voice deep and reluctant to speak. "I am certain I will win, but I am not so sure if the prize is worth the effort."

Carbucketty slitted his eyes. "Why so? Isn't Princess Cassandra the most favorable queen you have ever set eyes on?"

Though his face was turned away, Carbucketty could see the older tom shift visibly in discomfort: an act never shown to anyone else. "Indeed," he said flatly. "She is fair."

"But you desire her, do you not?" Carbucketty pressed. "After all, there is only one Princess of Ju—" He halted when Alonzo's brown eyes flashed up and he hissed in aggression.

"You will not speak of her again to me!" he snarled, baring his fangs. His ears pressed flat against his head and his tail stood erect and poised, slightly curved forward in the traditional manner of a feline being preparing to fight. The younger immediately backed down in the other's glare.

"I will not," he muttered. Only then did Alonzo turn his gaze and continue walking. The two were silent a long while, the trees passing them as silent sentinels. After a seemed eternity the forested quiet was broken by Alonzo's light chuckle.

"I have yet to see you attempt to find a female, Carbucketty," he said. "Are you timid, or intend to travel alone as I have done?"

Carbucketty returned the smile, liking Alonzo to be in a good mood. His tail flicked at a passing fly. "I have considered a life as you have chosen, but I fear I have not the skills for such. Even so, I have yet to find a queen that intrigues me."

Alonzo took a deep cleansing breath of the fresh forest air, a smile now placed firmly on his face. "I imagine so," he said, a caustic tone in his voice. "I also imagine you have never set eyes upon that young farmer's daughter we passed only yesterday coming to Pawprin, either."

Carbucketty's cheek fur stood on end as he swiped playfully at his friend. "I have so seen her."

Alonzo dodged easily and returned the attempt with a tweak of Carbucketty's ear. "I am very well conscious of that...for not five minutes had we stopped when you were trying to impress her with your craftsmanship and agility. It seems to have done you little good."

The two males had reached a dry riverbed by now, and as they walked only its banks, Carbucketty launched a quick sneak attack on Alonzo by pouncing on his turned back. With a semi-serious feline war cry, the two tumbled head over tail into the ditch. Alonzo landed on his back in the leaves still wet with dew, grunting loudly, with Carbucketty perched on his chest and grinning, holding the bundle of spears.

"If you insult me again like that I will use your tail to make arrow feathers," he playfully growled.

Alonzo grinned back at him, then with one kick flipped Carbucketty over and onto his back in the mud alongside him. The older tom then propped himself up on one arm and scoffed.

"You will have to get me down first."

The two laughed heartily and helped each other up, wiping mud from the other's back and untangling leaves. They crawled out onto the bank and shook their fur back into place, straightening their tunics. A few friendly growls passed between them before they continued their steady pace after the Pollicles. They hadn't gone ten paces when Alonzo stiffened and froze, holding up a hand and whispering: "Cease, Carbucketty. Do you hear that?"

The two stood more motionless than a stone in the middle of a prairie. Both their ears strained to pick up the faint sound again. There it was: the small snap of a twig and rustle of dead leaves to their left, beyond a ticket of laurel. Alonzo and Carbucketty gave a knowing glance at each other, then both slowly stalked forward, circling the thicket of laurels beside the riverbed that was the source of the shuffling noise. Alonzo held his tail poised high over his head as they crept forward on all fours, ready to drop it for the signal to attack. But the men were unprepared for what came.

Thundering out from the thicket, throwing laurel branches left and right, was a large, dark figure. It was a horrendous black beast, extremely muscular with fur blacker than the darkest night. It let out a scream, a horrible, ear-piercing scream. It mixed the sound of a Pollicle's hunting howl and a Jellicle's claws running across a steel sword. Carbucketty clapped his hands over his ears and stumbled back, as if dealt a physical blow by the screeching sound. He looked up in fear as the enormous beast whirled and set its blazing red eyes on him. He didn't have time to throw up his arms for protection before the gigantic beast raised an enormous paw and slammed it against Carbucketty's side, sending the young man smashing against a tree.

Carbucketty's breath was knocked from his lungs in a whoosh. He leaned against the tree for support and gasped for breath as the beast advanced again. It towered over him and raised an enormous clawed paw to strike again. Carbucketty held his newfound breath and quickly mumbled a prayer to Heaviside as he felt for sure this was the end for him. However, there was a flash of white and black, then the beast roared in pain and whirled around.

Carbucketty stood transfixed as he saw Alonzo courageously attack the beast, which was more than three times his size. Alonzo leaped at the beast's side, clawing and biting for all he was worth. It was a pity he didn't have his sword with him...then Carbucketty remembered. He looked to the bundle he had dropped, the tied spears decorated with Alonzo's hand-selected feathers. Without so much as a thought, he drew the small dagger from the belt around his waist and cut the line that held the spears together. Snatching one up, he threw it up to Alonzo. The white and black male caught the long weapon easily in one hand, and rising up on his back feet he remained teetering on the edge of the beast's enormous hunched back and slammed the spear down into it. At the same time, Carbucketty held his dagger tightly and leaped high, snarling, and thrust it deep into the beast's side with both paws. The enormous black creature reared back onto its hind legs, screaming that terrible scream again, and bucked the two Jellicles off. It roared again and turned, bounding off into the woods on four powerful limbs until it was gone from sight.

Carbucketty stood panting, looking about in confusion. The beast had run off with the dagger and spear still embedded in it. He looked to Alonzo, who pushed himself up, wiping dust and a bit of blood from his eyes, just as confused as the other.

"What in the name of Heaviside was that?" he panted, smoothing his ruffled chest fur. He looked across to Carbucketty, making sure his friend wasn't hurt. The younger tom blew dirt from his nose and sniffed.

"It smelled almost like a Pollicle," he answered. "But a little different..."

Alonzo sniffed the air and glared around them. "I have never seen a creature like that..." he rumbled.

Carbucketty's ears rose in a sudden eagerness. "A creature like that would certainly impress Deuteronomy and Cassandra," he said. "Much more than a pack of Pollicles."

Grinning recklessly in that same manner once again, Alonzo looked at him sideways. "Indeed it would." Bending down, he picked up the remaining spears, carrying two as he handed the remaining to Carbucketty. "Let's after it."

Carbucketty gripped his spear bundle resolutely. "Let's!"

Together they set off after the direction of the beast, and at a much faster pace. "You seem awfully determined," Alonzo panted as they ran. Carbucketty's answer was comical and dead serious at once.

"Of course...that was my favorite dagger."

Night fell over Felinera, a cloudless night where stars stretched as far as the eye could see, and all throughout Pawprin houses were dark and quiet as the vast countryside as the occupants settled down for the night. Windows went out one by one as candles and lanterns were closed and stifled, all windows except one.

Cassandra still sat at her window, the torches in their sconces along her wall burning bright and fresh. It was too warm of a night to have a fire. Draped in her purple silk robe she gazed up at the moon, a grinning crescent, and sighed wearily. The first day of games were over now. The competitors had returned from their hunt, though as night wore on it obscured her vision of the city below and she couldn't tell which of them was Alonzo...if any. It didn't plague her mind for long. He had no better chance of winning her heart than any of them.

Her eyes roved up to the moon again. Her lady. And not only hers, but her people's. The moon was the center of all Jellicle religion and faith; an object of worship that they praised in their annual celebration; the supreme embodiment of divinity that Cassandra would be mated under when her suitor was announced the winner of the games. It would be tomorrow evening...

Even now she could hear them: the countless servants and maids down in the kitchens and wine cellars, preparing food, drink, and decorations for the ceremony tomorrow night. She knew when the sun rose it would be ending... They would dress her in the grandest of gowns, as beautiful and radiant as the moon itself, and she would not even see her mate's face until they arrived at the town square below. Tonight was her last night as a maid...her last night of freedom.

Cassandra wasn't surprised when suddenly her face turned to the floor and tears began to trace the fur of her cheeks. She shouldn't be surprised...many were the nights she wept. Alone, frightened, vulnerable, but most of all lonely, she spent her nights in the stone prison. No one to turn to...no one to talk to...no one to comfort her...

And that was when the visions came.

Not painful, but frightening, her sight would darken, replaced by a series of images that flashed by, flickering like a fire's flames. Sometimes they passed so quickly she couldn't make them out. Other times they played as fluid as music, painting before her a story of abstract designs and pictures. This time, as she fell to the floor, weeping, the visions that bombarded her were as clear as her crystal tears.

A dark forest...two toms...fighting...a large beast...flashing metal...blood...a horrible scream...

It passed just as quickly, leaving the supposed goddess of her people curled in a fetal position on the stone floor, her tears flowing freely now, unrestrained. These strange prophetic visions came often, and she would go to Skimble for counsel and advice.

Skimbleshanks had his own chamber within the perimeter walls of Castle Jukard. A small stone dwelling set deep in the castle walls' south corner, Deuteronomy's advisor and recorder kept majorly to himself with his small garden and pond set in the castle grounds. Not a magician or alchemist, who Cassandra found were of no help at all, Skimble's wisdom beyond his golden years had proved time and time again to be a veritable saver of her sanity when these visions plagued her relentlessly. In no other Jellicle did she find a companionship as she did in Skimbleshanks...not in her own family.

"Skimble?" she whispered timidly as she pushed open the heavy oak door to the yellow-orange tabby's small dwelling. The scent of dust, ink, and old paper wafted out to her as the dull golden glow of a lantern greeted her eyes. As usual, Skimble was working long into the night. From the middle of the two-room stone cottage he sat at a wooden desk, dwarfed by stacks of old books and scrolls piled around him. His glassy green eyes smiled as he sighted the princess, and setting his writing quill back in its ink holder he stood up respectively as Cassandra entered and closed the door.

"Good evening, Your Highness," he purred with a tip of his head. "What brings you here so late?"

Holding her sleek arms at the elbows, Cassandra silently crossed to sit in the chair facing his desk, her silk robe drifting out behind her like a ghost. Skimble sat only after she did, closing the book he had been writing so laboriously in. "More visions, Princess?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "They are not as severe as in past times, but it is not only them that is troubling me."

"And what would that be, Princess?" When Cassandra said nothing, Skimble adjusted his heavy brown robe with a knowing gaze. "It is the wedding, isn't it?"

Cassandra nodded, determined not to weep again in front of her only friend. "I don't know what to do, Skimble..."

The old tabby smiled gently, and taking her lithe hands he stood up and drew her after him as he stepped stiffly to the door, wary of his aching joints. "Come, let's sit by the pond. You can tell me everything."

Cassandra's eyes watched the moon's reflection in the still pond intensely, the hot summer air around her heavy with the things she had told Skimble with utter confidence, spilling her worries and sorrows to him as she had done so many times in the past. The tom, sitting cross-legged beside her and too facing the water, listened without interruption until she fell silent.

"One could not blame you of such worries," he hummed. "Being selected a mate one does not even know is not something most queens desire."

"Then why must it be done with a princess?" Cassandra asked, equally as quiet. The sounds of the busy kitchen had long since stopped, but even in the middle of night it seemed that sometimes the walls could have ears. "The peasants mate as they see fit: chose partners they love and can be happy with."

"But they are only peasants, Your Highness," he answered gently. "They are not born with the task of ruling the country. Since history began it has been Jellicle tradition for mates of the princess to be chosen by triumph, for—"

"For princesses aren't allowed to fall in love," Cassandra finished bitterly. "And even if they did, their choice of tom may not be "suitable" for such a powerful position." She sniffed disdainfully, turning her face to look up at the tower chamber she knew to be her father's. "Curse you, Father!"

"Cassandra!" Skimble took hold of her arm sternly without hesitance, for he alone called the princess by her name outside her royal bloodline. "Do not say such things to your family. It is not their doing. They are simply following the tradition that has been a part of keeping Felinera one of the most powerful kingdoms in existence for centuries."

Cassandra let herself droop, gazing forlornly at his kind white face in search of the comfort she always found there. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

Skimble sighed, knowing that of all the times he'd offered advice, this would be the most delicate. "Your Highness," he began slowly. "Princesses have been going through these same situations for generations now. Your mother, and Munkustrap's mother... And never has there been a disgraceful outcome of any of Felinera's royal queens..."

"Except Munkustrap's mother..."

"Yes..." he agreed reluctantly. "And as much as I see it hurts you to be bound by a loveless marriage, it was decreed the day you were born that you had a duty to fulfill to your people. For the good of all Felinera you must carry that deed out, Cassandra. No matter how much it hurts..."

Cassandra's sleek, angled face fell to the ground at his words, knowing the truth in them but unwanting to accept it. Skimble had told her what she already knew, and to hear it finalized like this was condemning: pulling the lever that would drop the guillotine. The tom couldn't stand seeing his princess in such pain, and gently taking her chin he smiled as he brought her face up.

"You are still young yet, Cassandra," he said. "Young and wild, you yearn for the freedom of the forest when you are trapped inside these walls. You stand out among your family because you are different. Your blood dictates you are to sit on a throne, but your heart dictates you were meant to run the woods. I've watched you grow up, and I've seen this in you. So any decision you make, no matter what the outcome, I will support it. Behead me if it is necessary, but I know you will make the right choice."

Cassandra smiled sadly at his words, her tail curling to brush his in a gesture of sincere gratitude. "Thankyou, Skimble. You are a true friend..." She reached out and brushed his cheek, which he bowed his head respectively to. "I will do nothing to shame my family, and yet my heart wants to leave this place. I have seen the result of Grizabella's leaving, and I do not want to inflict that kind of grief on my family, but..." She shook her head, drawing back. "I will consider my options. Thankyou again for the comfort you've given me, Skimble...you have always been my guardian." Gently kissing his forehead, Cassandra stood in one graceful movement and swept back across the dark castle grounds toward her tower, where she would wait out the night in anticipation of tomorrow...

Dawn came in a blooming flower of gold and pink, its petals reaching out to cover the black sky of night. Its center peeked over the rolling countryside hills of Felinera in an explosion of golden light, warming the sky but doing nothing to ease the tense excitement that already hung in the air. On her beautiful white mare Cassandra rode slowly through the town square, her stone-faced composure of true royalty set on her regal features. Flanking her was her maid, Demeter, on a smaller brown and white pony. Though she had not yet changed into her gown that would be worn that evening, the pearly rose dress she wore now was the color of the creamy clouds of dawn above, standing her out as a rose among weeds.

The contesting toms looked up or stood respectively as Cassandra passed them, her slanted eyes roving over each and every prize they had brought from the forest over the night. Some had nothing, a few birds or fish at most, while others had the well-sought antlered deer and elusive foxes. Stopping at the end of the row of flags, she eyed Alonzo with the same detached coldness as the previous day. He hadn't rose to meet her face, and only when the clap of her horse's hooves stopped before him did he look up, preceded by his companion Carbucketty. At there feet lay five slain Pollicles: the dog-like beasts that roamed the forests. Large-fanged and large-muscled, they were a difficult animal to kill. The surprise that Alonzo and his companion had brought five back themselves she refused to let register on her face. Instead, she insulted them.

"Do you two have not even the decency to clean yourself after a hunt for your princess?" she stated flatly.

Alonzo, dirt-ridden from fighting and his tunic ripped and torn with stains of Pollicle blood, merely flicked back one black ear and grinned knowingly. "If it would please Milady, we will just be getting filthy again in the later competition. I would rather spend my strength fighting for something than grooming myself."

Gritting her teeth to keep from an undesirable outburst, Cassandra turned her nose into the air and prodded her white horse on by, not giving the two another thought. Demeter trotted quickly after, having not said a word.

"Why did you say such?" Carbucketty asked when the princess was beyond earshot, perplexed.

"There is something about these royal bloods that you must know, Carbucketty," the older tom answered, crouching to resharpen his spear heads. "They think they are gods. The peasants of Pawprin look up at them as superior beings." He held the spear aloft, testing its balance and weight. Perfect. "And perhaps they are, but as I am a traveler, I have no loyalty to them. I have seen too many royal families in my time to think of them than any more than cowards hiding behind money and a crown."

Whiskers quivering in obvious puzzlement, Carbucketty paused a moment before continuing. "Then why are you trying for this contest?"

"I have my reasons," was all he said.

Cassandra found her older half-brother Munkustrap at one of the tents set up near the far entrance to the town square. Examining the archery tools that would be used in a later contest, the tom of silver-striped fur glanced up warily at the princess and maid servant's approach.

"I am going out for my morning ride," Cassandra said simply. "I will be back before noon."

Fluffing back the velvet red cloak he wore lined in white ermine fur, Munkustrap waved away the bowmaker and moved his black stallion closer to his sister. "Be sure you are," he nodded. "For the games will start not much after, and you will need to be prepared for tonight."

"I understand, brother." She turned her mare and galloped for the forest, Demeter following.

Nothing gave Cassandra pleasure like running full speed across the open fields and plains atop her horse, the wind in her whiskers, her tail streaming out behind with her gown's flowing material. Her white mare was tireless as it bounded over hill and stream, giving Cassandra the sensation of flight as she closed her eyes and imagined herself running under the light of the full moon, chasing elusive foxes and rabbits with a bow and arrow held ready. As a princess she had been trained in battle and hunting, as most female Jellicles were. Demeter followed her along the line of deep forest until their steeds brought them to the crystal-clear river that snaked through this half of the woods and eventually curved around to cross before where Castle Jukard stood: Dewdrop River.

Giving their horses the freedom to rest, graze, and drink from the cool, sweet water, the two women sat at the river's edge, relishing the shade of the overhanging trees. While Cassandra stretched out angelically against the tree trunk, Demeter sat alert beside her, waiting for the slightest order as she had been brought up doing. She knew not to speak until she was spoken to...

"You hear the gossip that goes on among the servants," Cassandra mused after a moment, bringing the maid servant's green eyes up to hers. "Tell me: what are the tales about that Alonzo tom?"

"Alonzo, Your Highness?" Demeter asked meekly. The princess nodded, and the younger yellow Jellicle drew a long breath. "No one is certain of where he came from, Milady. But, from what I have heard, the most common tale is that he was raised by the wild Mountain Cats far up north..."

"Is that so?" Cassandra hummed. "What else?"

"Well, Your Highness, it has been said that he can speak the Pollicle language, and that he once slaughtered an entire deer herd alone. They say he travels a gifted road that is favored by Heaviside."

At the vocalization of this Cassandra laughed, her crystal voice carrying across the gentle river more clearly than its water. Speaking of this tom in such a way was speaking of an acorn as a mighty oak. Green eyes blinking curiously at her Lady's merriment, Demeter lowered her head to hide her chin behind her arms folded over her drawn-up knees. Cassandra's laughter died on the breeze, but her smile remained, and in the beautiful country scene spread out around her from Demeter's viewpoint she was nothing less than a goddess. The sunlight played over the sleek ruffles of her rose-colored dress in sparkling sequence, the pollen and tiny river insects darting about them like golden fairies. Cassandra's features were perfectly angled, sleek with an exotic suggestion which could have only come from her mother. Demeter could only wish she looked as beautiful.

"Then I imagine that is all those stories are: tall tales. I have yet to see any proof of any tom doing such things, and don't believe that a poor ruffian like him could even compete."

"You must admit, Highness, that he is a very unusual tom."

Cassandra's smile faded, and her dark slanted eyes turned coldly to her maid servant. As though a chill had set over the summer scene Demeter's young golden face turned wide in horror. Lowering her knees so that they were folded under her, she held her blouse with one hand and lowered her head eagerly, her tail curling tight around her ankles.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Milady. I didn't mean to contradict you. Forgive me, Your Highness."

Cassandra turned her nose into the air again, dismissing the servant with a slow blink as she turned her face back out over the river. "You are forgiven," she said loftily, the trademark aloofness of her bloodline. "Now go back to Jukard. I would like to be alone."

It was a moment that Demeter hesitated once climbing to her feet, her own judgement being a factor against leaving her princess alone in the forest so far from the castle. Cassandra's tail flicked sharply, the only gesture needed to send Demeter on her way. Reluctantly, the golden-furred woman untied the reins of her pony and climbed onto its back. Turning it to face back home, she glanced back once at Cassandra. The older woman was standing now, gazing down into the water with a statuesque appearance one could only describe as perfection. Sighing again her doubts, Demeter galloped away.

It wasn't for her interruption that Cassandra had sent Demeter away, but her interpretation of this tom called Alonzo. She had been so close to the royal female's own thoughts...too close. Cassandra let her ears detect for her when Demeter was well on her way, and dictating it safe she stood up from her laid out position on the riverbank. Crossing her arms, she stepped towards the water, gazing out over its smooth unbroken surface. Once the pound of horsehooves faded into the distance she was enclosed in the serenity of nature's sounds...the splash of a fish further downriver, the chirp of the birds overhead in the tree whose shade she stood in, the buzz of insects who infested the trees around her and danced over the glass river, the sway of the wildflowers and waterlilies in the breeze, the distant call of a squirrel. It was all so clean and free of the tainting noises of city-life that Cassandra found she could think so much more clearly.

Yes, Alonzo was an unusual tom. So unusual...since her conversation with Skimble the previous night she had been unable to decide what to really make of him. He was poor, filthy, with all the manners and etiquette customs of a wild Pollicle, and had on numerous times had shown blatant disrespect for her and what she stood for. If he cleaned his fur and adorned some proper clothing she might call him handsome, but that alone wouldn't suffice an answer for the curious attraction she felt for him. She could remember... Looking at Alonzo was like looking at the elaborate paintings hanging in Castle Jukard's walls of the ancient Jellicles: her distant ancestors who lived in the wilderness with the Pollicles and lived a nomadic life before they finally took to agriculture and settlements...the civilization she knew now. They were so primitive, and with that was the wild, untamed element that shown in their eyes. Even in paintings. It was the same thing she felt inside her...the urge to be wild. It was the same thing she saw when she looked at Alonzo.

Looking at Alonzo was like seeing her ancestors. Wild, untamed, the glint in his eyes was that of a panther...the glow of a predator. It was that animalistic element that she felt drew her to him so often: that feral feeling that made her think of him so often when she told herself she despised him. He was mysterious, a tall, dark tom who remained elusive despite her efforts to find out more about him; remained feral despite her efforts to tame him.

Looking down into the river Cassandra could see herself. Her perfection and beauty even she could admit were quite astounding, though she was never vain about them. Many were the nights she wished she could trade in her admitted beauty for the freedom of the peasants to come and go as they pleased. They thought so highly of her, of her looks, of her fortune. They all wished they could be princesses as well. They didn't know what it was like...they could only see it from the outside in. And they could have it if they wanted. All Cassandra yearned for was to dance as wild and free as she pleased. If any time seemed appropriate, it was now.

Throwing caution to the breeze, Cassandra tore away her extravagant gown and stepped out into the sunlight, feeling the warmth drape over her slim brown fur which had for so long remained sheltered. In the paintings of the ancient Jellicles they did not wear the elaborate clothing that the Jellicles wore now. They wore nothing save their thick, beautifully-patterned fur. It wasn't a necessity that the Jellicles of Cassandra's time even wear clothes...their fur was sufficient against the weather and elements, more given to fashion and show than to use...and without it now she felt closer to her primitive ancestors than ever.

Cassandra danced her last dance as a maiden without the hindrance of the frilly dress. Beside the river's flat bank she twirled and kicked with such grace and dexterity the tree-living squirrels would have been shamed. Her mind was nowhere inside her body, and yet it was in tune with everything around her: the ground, the trees, the river, the sky, the sun. This was her audience as she danced as natural as a Jellicle could be, lived the existence she wanted. For a fleeting moment in time she was who she really was inside, living the life she loved, doing what she longed to do. Reaching for the sky above, her claws scratched the air as her dance came to a steady close, the perspiration running beneath her fur unheeded. The pound of her heart, the euphoria in her head, the exhilaration of the dance made her feel truly alive.

But this was all before her paradise was shattered by the steady clap of two hands behind her. Whirling, with an angry snarl as savage as a Mountain Cat, Cassandra's short mane bristled with menace as her eyes narrowed at the white and black figure leaning against a tree further back in the forest surrounding the river. Recognizing him instantly, Cassandra was overcome in a sudden strike of horror as she snatched up her dress, covering herself as she hissed: "Alonzo!"

The broad-shouldered tom laughed heartily at her astonishment, his slow applause halted as he crossed his arms satisfactorily. His pleasure at catching her literally exposed was all too obvious.

"You are quite a dancer," he observed merrily, the grin on his face that of a lynx. Cassandra hissed, holding her dress tightly over her figure as she feared too much to lower the top and slip back into it. To be light, she was furious at his spying on her, even moreso at his mocking laughter.

"How dare you!" she snarled, her tail lashing in fits.

"Oh, I dare," he chortled, reaching up to rub his chin. "I think the bigger question presently is why you were doing such an act when there is a risk of being seen?"

Cassandra was trembling with anger, her claws threatening to tear the sleeves of her gown. Her teeth were clenched in a tight jaw as she ground out, enunciated each word angrily. "You turn around right now and go back to where you came from immediately or I will see to it myself you are beheaded!"

Alonzo's laughter faded, with it his lynxish grin. "I've no reason to take orders from you, _Princess_," he drawled, withdrawing his support from the tree to take a steady pace closer to her. "It's events like this that keep reminding me that your royal folk aren't as god-like as you claim."

Her ears flattened. Her tail bristled. "Turn around...NOW!" The queen was openly shocked when she found herself yelling...a thing she hadn't done in years. Her father had always dubbed it unsightly, a useless gesture made only by "less-perfect" beings. Alonzo wasn't impressed.

"I won't," was all he said and began to approach her again. Cassandra backed away, her anger diminishing into the first touches of fear as she saw that same predatorial glow in his face, his movements. She stopped when she felt her feet brush the wet edge of the river. What was he going to do? Kidnap her for ransom? Ravish her? Kill her? These thoughts flashed through her head in furious gales. Being of royal blood she had never had considered such things before...and it frightened her. He was an arm's length from her now, the proud smirk returning under his whiskers. "Not as regal now, are you?"

Cassandra opened her mouth to retaliate with another insult, but found herself floundering. Her mouth open, no sound came out. Her throat was frozen, all sound stifled in her trembling body at his closeness. She could smell him now...the traces of dirt and Pollicle blood still detectable, the more dominant odor being his male's musk that all toms possessed. It stung her nose and curled her tail at once, and for a moment it seemed inevitable that he was going to touch her when a horrible caterwaul rang out from behind him.

In a series of movements that was too fast for her to follow, Cassandra saw Alonzo whirl to face the direction he had come, and seemingly at the same time pushed her roughly. Unable to keep her balance, Cassandra tumbled backwards with a cry that was drowned by the whinny of her mare as she splashed into the river, her gown flying from her hands as her backside sank into the muddy bottom. The slim brown woman scrambled to wipe water from her eyes, growling a string of curses quite unbecoming of a princess. Shaking her mane, another viscous growl and scream cut the air as she looked up.

It was a creature Cassandra had never seen before. Enormous, larger than any bear, it had fur blacker than pitch, with blazing red eyes that glared out of a dark red-striped face. Its back was hunched and twisted, a grotesque deformation that only added ferocity to its lethal set of front claws and long sabre fangs. Rearing back, it swiping its scythe-like talons at the white and black man before it. Alonzo threw himself to the side, rolling low to come landing again on his feet in a low crouch with all the skill and agility of trained practice. The beast roared, gouging the soft riverbank with its claws, and whirling with a snarl, saliva oozing from its fangs in an endless hunger, it sets its sight on Cassandra. Drawing in a sharp breath of fear, the princess tried to regain her feet and scramble backwards deeper into the river. But the beast was already advancing, snapping its fangs, its enormous paws sloshing through the water like tree trunks.

It swung out at Cassandra. The female cried out as the wind of the blow grazed her midsection, and again she toppled over backwards, nearly submerged in the river's depth. Gasping for air as she pushed her head back above the water, she again heard the frantic neigh of her mare, and with a frantic glance over the riverbank caught sight of Alonzo mounting her horse with ease. Grabbing her reins, the tom turned the horse easily and with a kick and yeowl was galloping full speed...away.

He had abandoned her! Left her to fend for herself against this monster. Yeowling again a cat-like sound of anguish and fury, Cassandra again pushed herself to her feet. She braced herself, her tail curled and held high and rigid, her claws and fangs bared as she leaped—driven by outrage—onto the creature and tore at its thick, rancid fur. Disgraceful, her father would have said. An act of savages, not princesses, but Cassandra loved the exhilaration. Again she felt alive, scrambling over the back of this beast unhindered by dresses or concerns of how she looked. She found herself laughing as she felt dizzy with the rush of adrenaline, the scent of blood flaring her nostrils and whiskers as she took hold of a long spear shaft protruding from the beast's side and pulled it from its depths. It drove a roar of agony from the creature as it bucked and she drove it into its back again, reopening the old wound and jabbing it deeper. Again the creature bucked, leaping back onto the riverbank where it slammed its weight against a large oak: uprooting the tree and tossing Cassandra to the hard ground.

A sharp pain cut through Cassandra's ribs as the breath was knocked from her lungs. Her slim body curled and contorted as she gasped for air, her eyes turning up in fear as the beast bore down upon her again. Its hot breath blasted over her bare fur, the pound of its limbs shaking the pebbles and dirt around them, and Cassandra had clenched her eyes shut as she was certain this was her death when the sound of a horse and its hooves brought her back. The queen was barely able to cry out in her surprise as she felt a burly limb wrap securely around her waist and lift her into the air. Her limbs flailed wildly, but her breath was short and knocked even moreso as she found herself flung over the shoulders of her white mare, Alonzo's knees holding her in place as the horse bucked and whinnied, then bolted as a furious sprint away from the river, carrying her two occupants as though they weighed nothing. Behind them, the howl of the beast was that of defeat, and eventually faded into the distance.

Alonzo would have ridden the mare until it collapsed from exhaustion if Cassandra had not demanded he stop and let her rest. Pulling up beside a small outcrop of rocks set beside a break in the forest, a familiar landmark for most hunters, Alonzo tied the horse off in the shade. Sacrificing his tunic, he wiped the perspiration from the animal as it grazed. Over the shoulders and flanks, white foam was scraped away from the mare's spotless coat, a pampering in which the horse seemed to relish. Alonzo worked studiously, making sure no inch of the horse went unbrushed and that each spot was double-checked. Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes followed the forest shadow's edge until it broke into the large field covered in sunlight, and on the outcropping of rocks he saw Cassandra had taken up a perch. Her slim, shapely figure was stretched out leisurely on the river-smoothed rocks, basking in the warmth of the sun which gleamed off the accents of her cinnamon-brown slim coat. The tip of her tail twitched on its own, her arms crossed and her chin set on them, gazing out over the field away from the tom. Studying her face, he watched every angle of her slanted features shift with her thoughts. Each expression was a combination of beauty, a mere blink of her lashed eyes and flex of her whiskers possessed the grace of a fall wind, dancing its endless routine with multi-colored leaves, clearing a path for the majestic winter. He hadn't realized he had stopped his grooming until the mare nudged him insistently.

Turning back to his work, Alonzo resolved that he had never known a female to appear so comfortable, so at-home, in just a covering of fur. Queens he had encountered in times past would never show their face if having been seen without their dresses or skirts. The concept of running about in their natural cover had long ago been ordained primitive and uncivilized, those who refused to change either going into the wilderness to live wild or exiled from the country altogether. Alonzo had no qualms about the laws. He did only what he must to get by.

"That is quite enough," Cassandra purred, breaking Alonzo's train of thought. Observing again his tunic damp with the scent of horse, he tossed it over a low tree branch for later use. Clad now only in his brown leather trousers, he approached the rock outcrop and stood beside it, his arms crossed over his chest as he followed Cassandra's gaze out over the field. Grasshoppers buzzed from the long blades of prairie grass and stalks of wild wheat, mixed with the noise of bees among the wildflowers and the call of birds in the distance. Shimmering in the heat wave, the butterflies fluttering over the golden waves were tiny flickers of beautiful color, dancers in the wind. Like Cassandra.

"Should you not be competing at the games?" was her next flat inquiry, as aloof as ever.

"I have been," was Alonzo's solid answer. "I've not to fear yet of losing. The nobles who have gathered from other rich families are overgrown kittens who haven't a skill in their claws." He glanced sideways at her, but the queen had turned her face away. "I might as well ask you the same thing. It's getting on noon, and it won't be good going back to Jukard without your dress."

Cassandra's tail flicked indignantly, her nose turned up into the air. "I have my ways of getting inside undetected."

"Deception," the tom mused. "Bad qualities for such a princess."

"What does it matter to you?" she scoffed. "A country ruffian with not the slightest sense of chivalry."

"I, _princess_, am not a knight. Therefore I have no need or desire for the concept of chivalry."

"Then what, I pray, are you?"

Alonzo grinned, adopting a position of leaning against the rocks in favor for his previous rigid stance. "I'm a traveler. A rogue. I go where I want, do as I please, and have loyalty to no one except myself. I have only one man to look out for."

A small "harrumph" from Cassandra, but her face didn't register the longing inside of her for such a life. A life of travel, excitement, and adventure. A life of freedom. _Freedom_...

"What about yourself?" he voiced with a chuckle. "I would hardly think of a princess being comfortable without her dresses."

At the mention of this Cassandra became self-conscious of herself and reached down to touch her flank. As she did her eyes slid over her form. Every angle streamlined to perfection, she glided her claws over her hip and through her tail, admiring the lack of bulky clothes. Smiling genuinely in a secretive way, she laughed gently and stretched out, watching her sleek limbs in the sunlight. "That is where you're wrong, peasant. I love the sense of freedom. I love to dance, to run..." Stretching her leg up, she caught herself being carried away, and promptly regathered herself and sat up, brushing her claws back through her short mane. "But I don't lower myself to such acts of disgrace."

This time Alonzo did laugh, hearty, full-throated. "Of course! Of course, princess. That is exactly the reason why you don't stand alone by rivers to discard your dresses and dance."

Cassandra rose to her feet aggressively, glaring at the tom from her heightened stance on the rock pile. "Peasants do not contradict their superiors here in Felinera, peasant! I don't care who you are or where you come from."

Alonzo met her hard gaze, and to Cassandra's utter shock he grabbed her wrist and yanked her down to his level. Holding her wrist in a grip of iron unlike any she'd ever felt, he pulled her close so that their noses weren't but inches apart. Cassandra's breathing, rapid with mounting fury at his repeated defiance—even moreso that he possessed the audacity to force a grip on her, of royal blood—rose and felled her lean chest heavily. "Listen to me, _princess_," the tom rumbled. "I may be filthy, I may be poor, and I may be a renegade, but I am also proud and have my life exactly the way I want it. I also have my intelligence, and I know that royals like you aren't what you claim to be. You're nothing more than flamboyant swaggering dictators with delusions of Godhood."

That was when Cassandra slapped him. Halting all sound, the two stared at each other in equal astonishment. Their eyes met and held each other locked in their gaze. Cassandra was lost of what to do. Having never raised a hand against another cat in her life, the sensation of venting her anger in violence was a distant concept to her. Stiffly, almost mechanically, Alonzo took hold of her other wrist in an equally strong grip and held her in place as he leaned forward swiftly and kissed her. The swift move, no more than a brief shoving together of their whiskers, defiant and strong, was enough to snap Cassandra back to her senses, and yeowling out in a fierce cry she attacked. Her claws reached for his throat, and caught off-guard Alonzo was bowled over backwards. Falling into the tall golden grass of the field, the two cat beings hissed and spat as they brawled across the ground, trampling foliage and stirring up swarms of insects. It ended finally when Cassandra lifted her supple back legs and kicked Alonzo's stomach, breaking his grip long enough for her to scramble away from him.

Righting herself, Cassandra brushed down her ruffled fur, glaring at the tom who was doing likewise. Her claws had shredded what was left of his already-ratty trousers, and now they were a mere rag around his waist and tail. Wiping his eyes, the white and black tom turned to glare, licking a trickle of blood from his shoulder. "I knew I would curse myself for carrying you away from that creature."

"I knew I would curse myself for not having you beheaded the first day you arrived here," she spat back. Alonzo snarled a curse in a language Cassandra didn't understand and stood up, gazing back in the direction of the white horse. She was still there. Cassandra stood up as well, her panting at such exertion only beginning to slow back to normal.

"I had hoped those would last longer," the tom growled, detaching the rest of his trousers with a flick of his claw which severed the tight band that was their only support. The shredded rags were kicked away without further regard.

Cassandra couldn't deny that she stared. Jellicles without clothing was not a vulgar thing: the items that all cultures considered taboo to show were well-covered by their trademark thick fur. That was not a worry. What she saw was a tom as Heaviside had meant them to be: fur spotless to the sight, strong muscles visibly gliding like liquid steel beneath his coat, glimmering under the summer sun. Cassandra found her breath stolen as he turned to look back at her, flicking back one black ear.

"Princess, I do believe you are blushing."

Blinking in realization, she rotated her face to the ground. "I did no such thing."

"I know you didn't," the man purred, and when Cassandra looked up she found he was advancing towards her, standing a full head higher as he stopped not a paw's width from her this time, gazing down into her face with deep brown eyes. She'd never noticed his eye color before. They had a glint inside them, a detailed knowledge of what she craved to learn. When he spoke, it was the sound of a trickling stream. "I was not sure of what I thought I saw in you at first, but then I saw you by the river and I knew..." He reached for her slim brown hand, took it in his own, and despite all her instincts screaming against it, Cassandra didn't pull away. Gazing up into the serenity of his masculine features, the white fur and black patch over one eye and one side of his muzzle, was of such balance and beautiful mixture she couldn't help but admire. His voice was all she heard, surrounding her in its baritone melody. "You're not like other queens. You've the spirit of the wild." Alonzo took hold of her chin, but the royal blooded woman barely felt it. A strange warmth spread over her body, and it wasn't the sunlight any longer.

"So have you," she wheezed, breathless, heart-fluttering. But words were no longer needed.

Alonzo leaned down slowly, his eyes closing halfway, and Cassandra found herself tilting her head as well. Her eyes closed, and she could hardly believe what was happening when her lips pressed intensely against his.

For a timeless moment Cassandra was suspended in space, weightless as her hands rose to trace over the finely-toned muscles of Alonzo's arms and shoulders, over the curves of his back and up through his fine mane. For an eternity she was swept up in a flood of rushing sensations she didn't want to question, didn't want to end. The feel of his own hands caressing her arched back and sides was a delightful, sensual passion that she had never felt before, but now savored every moment wrapped in his arms. After that eternity they parted, Cassandra gasping in a sweet breath to calm her racing heart. She looked up into Alonzo's eyes...he had the brownest eyes she'd ever seen...

"How dare you kiss me," she said, barely over a whisper, her voice broken by a rushing pulse. If she came out sounding any more uncertain she could have been a kitten again.

Alonzo's smile was reckless, daring, with that predatorial glow that pulled her in...so enticing...like a tiger... "I've always done things I'm not supposed to." And he kissed her again. Cassandra let herself fall into his embrace, a comfort she'd never known surrounding her within his warmth. Slipping her lithe hands up to his chest, she raked her claws gently through his fur, inhaling deep his scent. To feel one so close, unbarred by cloth, was a strange, sweet sensation. It was the common link that bound them together: something Heaviside itself could only have planned, the untamed flame of primal instinct that ruled their actions by day and their dreams by night. Cassandra forgot all else but this tom who shared her passions for the hunt and freedom, and lived it to the fullest. She wanted that kind of life, and, she realized with the utmost astonishment, she wanted him.

"This cannot be happening," she whispered, pulling away yet remaining within his arms. Alonzo's pulse she could feel pounding in his chest where her hands rested, though his breath was slow and deep as his chin was set against her forehead. Turning her gaze out, she stared into the dark forest beyond them. It seemed so suddenly quiet, utterly magical as she stood here with the peace and comfort of Alonzo. The shafts of sunlight filtering through the trees were golden shafts that were alive with dancing insects, the scent of wildflowers in the air a lulling perfume that stopped time in its tracks. Cassandra felt her lithe tail intertwining with Alonzo's as though two snakes, performing their own dance of unity.

"It is," the man purred, stroking her short, silky mane. Cassandra closed her eyes, drawing a breath of his scent that was all she would have needed to stay there forever. The emotion that intertwined them together was a bond that could outlast time itself, an explosion of inexpressible devotion and pleasure that neither wanted to kill by speaking further. Cassandra couldn't even find the words. What was this feeling that sent her emotions spinning out of control and up into a dizzying height of sensual pleasure? Why did it block out everything in her mind except Alonzo? Why had she never felt it before?

It was love.

That alone was the only way she could think of to describe it. A love so deep and so pure it outshone the sun, outlasted time, and outdid any previous devotion or desire ever felt by two beings under Heaviside. The fire was a burning energy...an endless supply of unbridled passion and strength that it took all she had and more to pull away from him, gasping for air untainted by his scent. "I must go," she rasped weakly. "It's noon...I must go back to Jukard..." Her voice was broken, choked with emotion, as she pulled away from his arms. Their brawny outline remained suspended, empty, yearning again for Cassandra to fill them. Alonzo's face showed an equal expression, that yearning, and realizing he had taken a hasty step to follow her he stopped, lowering his gaze to the ground.

"Yes, you must," his voice followed. Cassandra turned away from him. She didn't look back, didn't utter a sound, as she mounted her horse and galloped away, her face streaming with tears of emotion unknown. Behind her she could see in her mind Alonzo still standing there, his brown eyes on her fading back. But what he would do now, now that she had exposed herself to him in so many ways, remained as much as mystery to the princess as how she was going to slip back into the castle unnoticed.

The servant's entrance. Shortly after the sun had reached its mid-point in the daily climb in the emerald sky, the final games were to be set up just outside of Pawprin: the battle matches. Save for a few guards, Jukard was deserted. The servants had been given the day off to attend the games, and true to expectations the royalty and nobles had gone as well. Cassandra should also be in attendance. Slipping in through the small back wooden door used by the servants in their coming and going, she crouched low against the wall, keeping well in the small noontime shadows. She prayed to Heaviside that the guards patrolling the high battlements around the castle would not detect her. Each step was as though her last, her whiskers and ears twitching endlessly as the very rustle of grass beneath her paws was a bellowing trumpet in her ears. But Heaviside smiled upon her that day, and she reached the north wing of the towers and slipped up the spiral staircase into her chambers.

Cassandra collapsed onto the silk covers of her bed an exhausted heap of debility: the result of devastating worries the previous night, strenuous dancing, and the realization she was in love rolled into one tremendous blow. Her nerves raw with weariness, she curled up as though a frightened child, gazing at the tapestry hanging on the stones of her wall as she hugged her pillow. Her arms were trembling, and no matter how much she squeezed the sack of downy feathers they would not cease. She hadn't the emotional reserves to cry any longer, for her mind was a thick fog, and she drifted through it without destination, without cognizance of anything around her. The breeze billowed out her purple curtains like rolling waves, and she watched them dully, blinking as the soft wind swept into the room and caressed her cheeks and fur the same way Alonzo had done, though not half as pleasant. She closed her eyes, sighing, letting her body go limp and rest, and she didn't know how long it was she had remained there when a sturdy pound resounded from her closed doorway.

"Cassandra!" came the baritone voice of Munkustrap which drove the woman upright in a start. "Cassandra! For Heaviside's sake, will you come out? Your mare has gotten lose outside and you gave none of us any notice you were going to come back here."

"Munkustrap," she gasped, standing up rigidly in a panic. He could never know! "I'll...I shall be right out. I was tired after the run and...came back here to rest. I must have been so tired I didn't tie her down enough. I fell asleep..."

"Yes, very well, but do make haste, dear! Already the games have been postponed for your absence. Of all days to keep your people waiting..."

She heard his voice move away, and hastily scrambled to adorn the gown that had been laid out for her by Demeter. After such an eventful day Cassandra had thought little about her recurring dread of the marriage that would take place after the sun set. But her worries were annulled by the notion that Alonzo, too, was to be fighting in this final challenge that would decide her mate. This small thought brought a smile to her lips as she slipped into the dress colored lavender, tying a necklace of amethyst about her slim throat, and brushing back her mane with a comb that had been sitting among violets all morning. Brushing out the folds of her dress, she drew in a breath and settled herself, regaining her regal composure as she swept out into the presence of her half-brother. The gray-striped tom looked her over approvingly.

"If you were not my sister I would die fighting for the chance to be your mate," he smiled gently. Cassandra nodded curtly in return, extending her slim brown hand which, in accordance to proper etiquette, Munkustrap took a gentle hold of and walked with her down the spiral stone stairway where two guards were standing with his black stallion and her white mare at the ready. Each horse had been brushed and decorated as beautiful as their riders, flowers braided into their satin tails and silk scarves adorning their saddles. The traditional leather reins had been exchanged for strands of silver and gold, crafted by the finest smiths in the country. Cassandra was helped up to her mare by her brother, where she settled with practiced ease sitting sideways over the creature's back, watching as Munkustrap climbed aboard his own fine steed.

"If you are ready," he offered. The princess nodded, and turning their horses outward the two rode side by side to the western border of Pawprin.

Already the decorative banners of the remaining contestants were flying high around the circular arena that had been built for this landmark occasion. A circular area approximately five meters in diameter, the ground was hard-packed dirt clear of rocks and all obstacles, and all around had been set tree stumps and wooden benches where peasants and nobles alike stood or sat, mingling with excitement. The scent of roasting meat was in the air: the previous hunt's collection of kills that would supply the feast once the winner was decided. A special platform had been set up just as in Pawprin's center square where Deuteronomy and Skimbleshanks already were perched, both their faces turning with eager relief to the sight of Munkustrap arriving finally with the guest of honor. Cassandra kept her gaze focused ahead, not meeting her father's or any of the admiring stares around her as she trotted in silence to the platform steps, slid off her horse and handed the reins to a waiting Demeter, then with Munkustrap following stepped up onto the high-rise. Her regal appearance and the respectful silence that fell over the crowd was no different than the previous day's ceremonies. She took her seat at the left side of her father as Munkustrap took the right, and at the same time Deuteronomy moved forward after greeting his children to give the same encourageable words to the spectators and contestants. Cassandra didn't listen.

Of the twenty toms who had entered the competition for the princess's hand, only eight remained after the archery, lance-throwing, and riddle-solving contests. Now those eight were to fight each other, and only one winner would triumph this evening. Cassandra sat entirely on edge, her ankles folded easily in the learned manner of a princess, but her brown hands were enclosed in her lap, wringing nervously as she peered out into the gathered Jellicles, scanning for that one white and black face.

Carbucketty winced at the sharp sound that cut the air each time the hammer came down onto the red-hot piece of metal. Undaunting in its steadiness, the blows rang down with tireless persistence, shaping and molding the spearhead with a violent energy. He watched the tom wielding the hammer with equal curiosity, taking care to stay well out of the other's arm reach.

"Do take care, Alonzo," he finally said over the raining blows. "You'll pound that spearhead into dust before you are satisfied."

The pounds finally stopped with one final slam and Alonzo stood upright again, wiping his brow, panting from the exertion. Holding up the wooden spear, he gazed at the work he'd done to the metal tip of it, and finally deciding it well enough dumped it into a barrel of water. The glowing red iron hissed angrily against the steam, and when he withdrew it again it was the starkest of black colors. Running a paw along the side, Alonzo glanced at his comrade. "Would you rather me take the hammer to _your_ head, Carbucketty?"

Laughing, the younger white and patched tom exchanged the spear Alonzo held for a thin, well-balanced double-headed lance. Twirling it expertly in one hand over his head and around his back, the white and black tom radiated a confidence and determination few others possessed, and Carbucketty noticed. "I do believe this is the first time I've seen you so excited."

Alonzo's grin was cocky, the glint in his eyes knowing. "Excited is far from the word."

A trumpet fanfare broke the steady murmur of the crowd, and a respectful silence once again fell as the gate to the arena opened and there marched in single profile the eight remaining toms. Decorated and armed for battle, at their sides stood their squires holding their flags high in the wind. Cassandra remained still and motionless as she gazed over them regally, her eyes passing over each dismissively until she reached the last. Alonzo stood there, his double-headed lance held steadily over one shoulder, clad in a pair of brown trousers and green tunic nearly identical to the same as before. At his side stood Carbucketty, holding a wooden staff from which billowed out naught but a fresh Pollicle skin. Alonzo's face was as unemotional as Cassandra's, betraying nothing of what he thought at he gazed up at her, meeting her eyes coldly. The female gulped.

Deuteronomy waved one massive gray paw, and in equal procession the flag bearers turned on their heel and filed back out, disappearing back into the crowd. All was silent as the contestants broke their line to spread out over the arena, their weapons of choice held at the ready. Swords, staffs, lances, slings, and daggers filled the hands of the fighters, the sunlight shining off their metal blades, the chains rattling in the steady wind. Tails bristled and lashed. Not a sound was made. Standing resolutely, wary of his aching joints, Skimbleshanks held aloft a bow and arrow, a beautiful ceremonial weapon of the finest quality, and fitting it with a red-feathered arrow he aimed it into the ring. Only after the arrow was fired and touched the ground would the fighting be able to begin. Skimble drew the bowstring back. Cassandra found herself leaning forward eagerly, the intensity in the air unbearable. Exhaling, Skimble's silver paw released the arrow. It beelined towards the ground and struck the earth with a dull thump, and not a fraction of a second later the eight toms attacked.

The rules of the brawl were very simple: the last tom standing was the victor. In a fight such as this, which was a mere contest, it was forbidden to kill your opponents, so that in coming out the winner in this match showed not only battle skills and strategy, but mercy and the ability to fight without killing. Almost immediately the fighting broke off into pairs as none of the contestants were willing to work together. Spreading out over the ring, metal clashed against shields and angry snarls of effort were heard over the crowd, yeowling for their favored winners. Cassandra squeezed her hands together until they ached, her eyes searching through the kicked-up dust and flashing weapons for her champion.

Alonzo had been beset by his nearest neighbor, a tom of equal size and fur the color of stormclouds who twirled a loaded sling. Fiercely the tom attack, whirling the sling over his head to throw it low in attempt to trap Alonzo's feet. The white and black tom ducked and leaped, his agility saving his balance each time, and continued to fight defensive as he let the other attack. For Cassandra it was easy to see why. By not attacking, he was saving his strength, and it became apparent as the other tom's efforts went again and again in vain and he began to slow. It was a final throw that Alonzo made his move. Tossing out the sling again, instead of darting to the side, Alonzo thrust his lance forward. The leather strap and weaved pocket twirled securely around the lance's thin shaft, locking itself in place. With a jerk Alonzo drew the weapon back, yanking the sling from his opponent's paw. Alonzo then used the lance as a support and threw his feet high, hitting the other's jaw which sent him to the ground. With the remainder of the sling the white and black tom bound his paws behind him lest the other tried to get up and rejoin the fight, all the while keeping his brown eyes wary of the others.

Five remained. Sighting a tom of white with brown markings whose back was turned, Alonzo attacked, leaping high and closed his lance across the throat to pull it tight. Coughing and choking against the hold, the smaller tom strove to stab behind him with his sword, and succeeded in striking Alonzo once in the side. Roaring, Alonzo's green tunic slowly began to stain red as he grabbed the other's thick cloak, spun it over his head, then kicked the breath from his stomach so the smaller was on the ground. Wrapping the cloak tightly over the other's head and torso, Alonzo used the sword to pin it deep into the ground, then picking up his lance turned back to the brawl.

Now four remained. The largest with fur of black was missing an ear, Alonzo's held his side tightly, the smallest of a pure yellow coat dwarfed by the rest, and the last with a brown-striped coat seemed untouched. The crowd continued to cheer and yeowl, bets being made on who was to emerge triumphant. The princess risked taking her eyes away from the scene long enough to glance at Skimble. The yellow-orange tabby returned her gaze with a nod, his green eyes conveying the sorrow he felt for her now that the female had felt for herself the previous night. He had no knowledge that she was praying to Heaviside under her held breath for Alonzo to win.

The four were circling now, each one eyeing and wary of the rest. The large black-furred man seemed to take particular interest in the smaller yellow, Cassandra could see, and was proven when he rounded suddenly and swung his sword with a fierce feline roar. The smaller tried to parry with his staff, but the shaft of polished wood was sliced clean through by the sword which carried on, cutting deep into the yellow's chest with a sick slice. The smaller man fell the ground, never to rise again. Deuteronomy, however, did.

With a commanding bellow, he halted all proceedings. "Enough! The traditions by which we Jellicles fight are honorable ones, and shall not go unbroken!" At this the black male realized what he had done and dropped his sword in knowing defeat. "Remove him," the King of Jukard, Pawprin, and Felinera ordered to a set of guards standing by, and with double quickness both the guilty and the dead were dragged out of the ring. Gazing over the now-quiet area, Deuteronomy sat back down. "Continue."

The crowd was silent, whiskers quivering, as they turned back to the two remaining fighters who were to be the final choices. One of them, Alonzo, stood ready and waiting, the predatorial glow Cassandra could see surrounding him in a sheen of relaxed posture. His opponent, dressed in a flashy red tunic and cloak that despite its rich design was remarkably fit for fighting, had the same visible confidence, his accompanied by a cocky smirk. He held a small rapier easily balanced, and tossed it paw to paw mockingly as the two began to circle again. Alonzo's tunic side was now a sodden red mess, but he gave it little regard. Cassandra held the tip of her tail, wringing it tightly as she felt it jerk with anxiety.

The two clashed. Whirling his sword, the brown-striped tom swung directly for Alonzo's head. The other brought up his lance. The thin rapier edge drove into the sturdy wood, halting the blow without breaking it. Alonzo kicked the other away. The rapier flashed again, creating a flashing arc in the sky. Alonzo raised his lance sideways again to block it. A snap. The rapier had cut the lance clean in two. It took everything Cassandra had to keep from crying out as Alonzo tossed away the two useless pieces and kept circling, staying wary on his paws. The other grinned devilishly, already considering himself having won Cassandra's hand. Yeowling a high-pitched caterwaul, he charged, jabbing the rapier left and right in accordance to which way Alonzo twisted and turned. Twice the rapier slid over Alonzo's shoulder and face, and even with her years of practice the princess couldn't hide the worry that cut her own face. She looked at Skimble, at Munkustrap, but both their faces were riveted to the fight, watching intensely to see the outcome. Deuteronomy gazed down in his usual manner that looked as though he was unaware of the events around him, his kindly old face deep and thoughtful. She could expect no help from any of them.

The rapier swung low. Alonzo jumped to avoid it, and at the same time the brown-striped tom brought the handle of his rapier up to smack against Alonzo's head. Cassandra's champion fell with an agonized cry, a large gash between his ears. Yeowling victoriously, the other lifted his rapier for a final unfatal blow. The long steel blade flashed down. Cassandra couldn't stand it anymore. The slim brown-furred princess leaped to her feet, her hands to her chest and throat as she screamed: "Alonzo!"

In a surge of strength Alonzo rolled. The rapier blade hit only dirt. Cassandra felt herself jerked backwards by Skimble's sturdy silver paws, hissing her name in her ear as he drew her back to her seat. Already half the crowd had turned their eyes curiously to this female who they adored like no other, but Cassandra paid them no attention. Her eyes joined the other half of the crowd in watching the fight continue. Pulling his feet together under him, Alonzo rose as though by will alone, and when the rapier was thrust at him again he grabbed the hilt, enclosing his hands around those of his opponent's. At first it seemed a wrestling contest in which each tried to turn the sword on the other, and it seemed Alonzo was winning, when in a savage and entirely unexpected attack he lunged forward, snapping his fangs like a hunter's trap at the muzzle of the other. The brown tom yeowled in pain as a long gash appeared down his feline nose and muzzle, and in his shock released the rapier. Alonzo flung the sword away, and ripping away his already torn and bloody tunic he attacked full force in a fighting style so brutal and barbaric it seemed as though one of the ancient Jellicles was there in his place, clad in trousers and severely beating his opponent with naught but fists, claws, and fangs. The other tom's tunic was equally torn, his body equally battered when a double fist hit him sideways in the jaw and he spun to the ground, landing with a hard thump on the dirt floor and only able to cringe in pain. Panting, his shoulders heaving, fur damp under the hot afternoon sun, Alonzo was the sole source of attention as he turned slowly, with agonizing slowness, and gazed up at the royal family seated on the platform. Cassandra stood again to her feet, her hands clasped before her, unable to believe what she saw and unable to stop her smile. Alonzo raised his fist in the air.

The crowd broke into cheers.

"ARGH!!"

And were silenced the moment Alonzo cried out and buckled. The other tom rose up, his one hand holding the broken shaft of the same red-feathered arrow that had been shot into the ground, the other half having been driven into the back of Alonzo's shin. In her mad dash forward Cassandra threw herself against the railing of the platform, shouting his name again, and this time it was Munkustrap whose burly arms became her restraints, dragging a very unsightly, struggling princess away from the edge of the high-rise, watching over her shoulder the same events which she did through her tears.

The brown-striped tom raised his fist in a like manner, roaring out to his superiors: "Good King Deuteronomy, I claim my victory!"

Cassandra's father rose to his feet, his royal blue and purple-gold robes sweeping about his enormous, majestic form as he raised his paws ceremoniously. His gray eyes swept over the toms. His evaluations of them both remained masked under his kindly old face and heavy gray and brown whiskers. Cassandra, having long since given up trying to support her body weight, now let herself droop in absolute despair in Munkustrap's arms, her face and eyes reaching out and pleading to her father for him not to say the verdict she knew he would. But her gaze went unseen, her pain unfelt, as he addressed the fighters.

"You," he said, indicating the fallen. "Answer accordingly. Do you go on fighting, or do you surrender?"

Alonzo, who had in this time been trying to push himself to his feet, was unable to do so as each time his leg pierced with the arrow head would not support any weight. Lying sprawled on his back, for a long while he tried to regain his stance, pushing and straining, though each time he fell back to the earth. He looked up. His eyes met Cassandra's. The regret and sorrow in them was unbearable, and finally he lay down in submission. He surrendered.

"So be it," Deuteronomy finalized, folding his arms. "We have our champion."

"_No_!" Cassandra screeched, and reaching out she clawed Munkustrap across the face, breaking his hold upon her. Like mad she scrambled down the platform stairs, across the grounds, her gown streaming out behind her as transparent and ghostly as her hopes. Snatching the reins of her mare, she leaped onto its back, and as though sensing her rider's distress the mare took off at full speed back to Jukard, her passenger already breaking down.

Carbucketty had watched the entire battle unfold before his eyes as pages turn in a book, unable to tear his gaze away. At first he had settled for a seat on the ground, folding his arms over the lowest bar of wood that helped make up the boundary fence surrounding the arena, but as the fight progressed, and tom after tom scrambled out of the arena to make room for the continuing fighters, the young white and brown tom stood until, when it came down to the last couple, his claws dug into the bark of the wood as he perched up on the fence like a panther waiting to pounce. Straining forward, his ears, whiskers, tail and eyes were rigid straight with excitement, his throat yeowling out fierce cries in encouragement of Alonzo.

That was until Alonzo surrendered.

Barely waiting for Deuteronomy and the winner's words to die on the air, Carbucketty's paws hit the ground in a blur and stirred up a cloud of dust as he bolted, throwing himself at Alonzo's side. "Alonzo! Say something, friend!"

"D**nit!" the white and black tom snarled as Carbucketty took hold of his shoulders to help push him up. The burly tom reached up to grab the younger's shoulder, growling in pain as he was hauled up to his feet, leaning heavily on Carbucketty. At an awkward stumble the young tom helped his friend the first few paces, brushing away the dirt stuck to his damp fur and around his wounds, wary of Alonzo's sharp words at the uselessness of his leg. Carbucketty had already begun assessing what would need to be done to Alonzo's numerous slashes when a steel-cold voice brought Carbucketty's face up.

"You fight well," snickered the brown tabby, wiping his brow with the torn edge of his tunic. Carbucketty, the brown slash over his left eye glaring first, wrinkled his muzzle in a threatening snarl that was unheeded. "But not well enough."

"Ratlover!" the younger tom spat.

"Carbucketty," Alonzo wheezed, and pulling his weight the two companions turned their backs on the smirking tabby and limped out of the arena, ignoring the prying, curious eyes as they passed through the crowd. Alonzo was clearly dejected beyond what was bearable as he let his head fall, watching his paws move slowly and shakily alongside his companion's. Carbucketty kept his eyes warily trained on him, listening to his ragged breathing as the crowd parted to let them through. Stopping only to pick up the end of their Pollicle-skin flag, the wooden pole dragged out behind them in the dirt, leaving an apt trail for anyone who should want to follow as they made back to their set-up tent in the square of Pawprin.

Alonzo was too exhausted to even wince from the pains as Carbucketty set to work on his wounds, sewing them shut with strands of horse tail hair and a sharpened hot needle. The white and black tom lay propped up against the side of the wooden platform supports in Pawprin's town square, stretched out after reluctantly agreeing to Carbucketty's doctoring.

"I gave up," the tom moaned, his eyes shut, oblivious to all. "I gave up..."

"You mustn't tie your tail in a knot over such a thing," the younger tom mused as he bent over Alonzo's side, applying his own store of healing saliva after each stitch. "It was a mere contest."

"I should have not surrendered...I could have gone on..."

"Nonsense," the younger scoffed, tearing strips of one of their few travel blankets to serve as bandages. "With scratches like these, thank Heaviside you are breathing at all." Pulling tight the last stitch, Carbucketty severed the line with a clip of his teeth and drew back, wiping his paws on his green tunic. "I suggest we reside here until you can manage well enough—"

"We'll do no such thing! We'll gather what we need and leave this place. The sooner the better."

Carbucketty's ears flattened as Alonzo sat up to examine the patchwork himself. Such hurriedness could never have been expected from one such as he. "But, Alonzo—"

"I've said all I'm going to, Carbucketty." Grunting in effort, Alonzo pushed himself up, holding his side fiercely. Carbucketty stared dumbfounded from where he still crouched, eyes following the older tom shuffle about, gathering up their travel packs and blankets. Though he said nothing, the tom's face read like a book. Tight with concentration, his brown eyes sparked with anger, which was obvious as he jerked the items, each movement violent. A growl welled up in his chest, almost the same instant he overturned a pack to reveal beneath it a sturdy full-length rope. Pausing, he stared, a strange calmness overtaking his features as he bent to retrieve its coils, running his paws over the fine weavework. Carbucketty rose to stand, turning Alonzo's shoulder to face him defiantly.

"And I am saying more! Do not fail to remember, Alonzo, how fanatical you were about getting to this contest when you first heard of it. Since we have arrived in Pawprin you've done naught but think about it. At first I was astounded that a cat as noble as yourself would even consider such an offer! Marrying a princess you've never laid eyes on just for a crown." He paused, searching for the effect his words had, but Alonzo's face remained fixed on the rope. "And I was frightened, as well, because you could very well win. And where would that take you? You were never meant to stay in one place, friend. I know I'm young and not half as experienced in the world as you, but believe this: you were never meant to win Cassandra's hand."

"That's where you fault, Carbucketty. I _was_ meant to win...and I haven't." His voice fell heavy as a boulder, and resolutely he turned, looping the rope over his shoulder, casting one glance up at the distant Castle Jukard as he strode with all intent back in the direction they had come.

"Wait!" Carbucketty called. "Where are you going?"

"To hang myself."

"And furthermore, your conduct at the arena today was of the utmost disgrace!"

"Father, surely she had just reasons."

"Hold your tongue," Deuteronomy growled, his voice directed previously toward his daughter now taking on its very rare, harsh tone with his son, who stood in the doorway to Cassandra's chambers in Castle Jukard. Munkustrap's golden eyes lowered as he was spoken to, turning away from the sight before him. Cassandra sat on the edge of her elaborate bed in the most beautiful of white dresses, laden with silk ribbons and lace. Her wedding dress. As beautiful as it was, her face was solemn, fixed on the floor as her maidservant Demeter tied the back of her dress securely. Deuteronomy stood before her, a barrier of strict anger who refused to move as he berated his daughter endlessly.

"What have you to say for yourself?"

A pause, and when she finally spoke her voice was less than a whisper. "I won't be his mate."

"You've no choice, Cassandra. It is our tradition."

"I don't even know his name."

"You may have all the time in the world to get to know him after tonight."

"After I become his mate."

"That is quite enough! Cassandra, this marriage is for the good of the people, not for yourself. We royalty were born to make sacrifices such as these for the good of the many in our country. Felinera would not be where it is today if it weren't for our traditions. It is selfishness like yours that brings down even the greatest of families."

Munkustrap shifted his weight visibly, but went unnoticed. All eyes were on Cassandra.

"Selfishness," she echoed. Distant. Unaware of her surroundings.

Deuteronomy sighed, letting his crossed arms fall. "I tire of these lectures, Cassandra. Demeter, finish your task with haste. I want her down on her mare and ready to make for Pawprin in no more than five minutes."

"Yes, milord," Demeter bowed graciously.

"And you, Cassandra," he said as he turned to leave. "I do not say these things to upset you, but it is the truth. It has been for years. Your mother felt the same way, as did Munkustrap's. You will learn to love him, I'm sure. For your people, Cassandra..." He watched his daughter a moment longer, then turning with the sluggishness of his age gestured his son out, leaving the two women to privacy.

"Yes, Father," Cassandra sighed as Demeter tied the last catch, the heavy wooden door to her chambers closing with a creak of metal hinges. Cassandra turned her face to the window as the echo of the door bounced off the stone walls, like the ringing of a gong that sealed her fate. She reached one slim brown hand up to hold her throat, her other trembling in her lap. Sensing her lady's distress, Demeter slipped around to the floor, kneeling with her hands on Cassandra's knees, her green eyes turning up with tearful worry. The sorrow she saw in Cassandra's face was a stab to her own heart, emphasized even moreso as the princess refused to shed a tear in the presence of another. Little needed to be said.

"What can I do, milady?" Demeter voiced quietly. Cassandra let her face fall, her hand as well coming to rest on Demeter's slim golden hands.

"Please, call Skimbleshanks to my chambers. I need to speak with him."

Only too ready to do as her princess wanted, Demeter gathered her frayed skirt and hurried out, closing the thick door securely behind her as she bolted down the stairs and into the courtyard. Cassandra remained motionless, listening to the sound of her steps fade, only when silence reigned did she stand, looking an angel sent from Heaviside as she moved to the window to gaze out one last time. The sky was red and bronze with sunset, the golden orb already half-descended below the rolling hills of the horizon. Her last day as a maiden had already passed, and she had spent it in such misery. Turning away, unable to bear the sight of such freedom beyond these walls and beyond her reach, she let herself weep without restriction, staggering toward her dresser and mirror to lean heavily against the wood for support. The ache inside her exploded into a full infantry attack on her heart, driving her to her knees and nearly gouging her dress open. She took notice of neither. She was to be sold like a slave without a voice into the custody of a tom who had nearly killed the one she truly loved not an hour ago. She didn't even know his name...

There was a moment's peace as she thought of Alonzo. Only in his arms did she remember feeling comfort, peace, and happiness. That moment in the forest with him...no words she could describe it. In her grief he was all she wanted, to feel his comfort wipe away her tears, that predatorial element surrounding her, protecting her from these royal traditions, making her feel safe in a world so cruel. But most of all she just wanted him. Pulling herself up back to her feet, she drew in a slow breath, brushing back her mane. Already her mind was made up. There was no stopping her.

Pulling open the top drawer on her thick oak dresser, she didn't have to turn her face away from the window to know where it was. Her hand closed around its hard surface, and lifting it from the drawer she held it resolutely at her side as she approached the window again. Staring out at the freedom of the countryside, she could almost smile. The sun's tip shone only now, casting long, lonely shadows over the city below and land beyond. The dusky orange colors were beautiful mixed with the darker reds and blacks. If she was going to die, this glimpse of freedom was the last thing she wanted to see.

Cassandra's mind was already made up. The dagger in her hand had been a gift from Munkustrap: a graduation after he himself had guided her in her training of weaponry. A beautiful weapon, really, but her eyes were on the blade, not the ornate golden handle. Her hand was steady as she held it up, the last rays of sunlight shining in golden waves off the blade. Sharp from never having been used, it seemed a pity to let such a weapon rust away without having ever been used. The dull ache in her chest was still present, throbbing with each beat of her heart. Such a pity... There was no going back for her. If she couldn't be wed in love, she didn't want to live in this world. Resolutely, Cassandra raised the dagger to her chest.

"Cassandra..."

Cassandra opened her eyes. The blade fell to the ground with a loud clatter, but neither heard it. Her breath stopped, the ache in her chest forgotten, for there, framed in the arched window, was Alonzo. His fur, the edges highlighted in the golden light from behind, burned with the fire of divinity, adding the final touch to an already perfect man that rang in her vision to make him a god: a holy creature sent directly from Heaviside and stood before her now. On silent paws he seemed to glide down to stand on her floor, and just behind him she could see the tied-off ends of a thick rope. Blessed twine... No words were needed between them. His face, rough from battle, was that of the wild tiger stalking her, the predator she was so drawn to. There it was. She could see every reason to live inside his deep brown eyes.

Not a word passed their throats as Cassandra and Alonzo rushed forward to meet, their arms encircling the other in a longing neither had ever known. She loved him. He loved her. It was as simple as that. Nothing else mattered in the world. Nothing except the two of them. The last traces of sun vanished in the darkening sky, leaving a dim silhouette of two Jellicles entwined, bound together by the strongest of bonds ever forged with Heaviside's hammer and could never be broken.

"I never wanted the crown," he said into her mane, holding her tighter, almost possessively. "I never wanted the money. I never wanted all the power in the world to rule Felinera. All I want is you, Cassandra."

Cassandra gave herself over completely in his embrace, her gentle sobs of happiness muffled against his furry chest. "Then hold me tighter, love," she gasped, "for I'm all yours."

Skimbleshanks's aching joints were finally given a rest as he reached the top of the stairs, pausing a moment to rest and lean against the heavy wooden door to Cassandra's room. With the stairs in this stone fortress he was constantly reminded his age, a factor he would have rather much forgotten. Readjusting his simple brown robes, his claws rapped gently against the heavy wood. "Princess," he called gently, announcing himself in the proper manner. He waited. When no answer came he tried again, this time slipping the doorway open a few minutes after his announcement to slip inside. He paced into the chambers on silent paws, and standing in the middle of the empty, silence place, it slowly began to fall together. He saw the elaborate decorating frills and extensions to Cassandra's dress torn and crumpled on the floor, her white gown nowhere in sight. He saw the dagger left negligently on the floor. He saw the tied rope end at the base of Cassandra's window, leading out. He also saw the single sheet of paper lying amid the purple sheets of the princess's bed, and delicately picked it up. The handwriting was scrawled, hurried...

__

My beloved Skimbleshanks,

You alone are my friend and mentor in this world, so it is to you alone that I am to tell this. I have found what I wanted, and despite the trouble and grief it may cause in Pawprin I cannot let that hold me back from true happiness. I hope Father and Munkustrap will understand, and I pray to Heaviside that you will as well. I know I have made the right decision.

You will always be in my memory,

Cassandra

Skimble let the words repeat in his mind, pondering the cause behind it that had made the princess carry out such a bold move, even moreso worrying over the rippling effects that would be felt the moment Jukard and Pawprin realized she was gone. But he didn't have to for long. Everything fell into place properly and accordingly as through the open window he heard the clatter of a white mare's hooves heading out of Jukard to a destination unknown. The old yellow-orange tabby couldn't help but manage a small smile.


End file.
